“Of all my father’s fabulous fables, of course this was the one he chose to leave out.”
Excerpt…
Venice, December 1323
“THE YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, who is still at home,” Peter had said. “You may find you have something in common.”
Like a face, Johanna thought.
They met at the taverna where she had met with Peter the first time. It was convenient for both their lodgings and the alewife remained as professionally disinterested in her clientele as she had been previously.
Moreta Polo sat across the table looking as startled as Johanna felt. The other woman was older than she was, shorter than she was, her hair was darker and straighter and her eyes were brown, all of which Johanna found comforting, because otherwise any third party looking on would have called them sisters. The same straight nose, the same high cheekbones, the same wide mouth, the same firm chin. Moreta’s skin was pale and creamy where Johanna’s was a faint gold, and Johanna’s teeth were better, but for the rest…
The other woman found her voice. “Of all my father’s fabulous fables,” she said to Peter, “of course this was the one he chose to leave out. It is so like him.”
Dana sez–
The two eldest daughters of Marco Polo and his wife were evidently unpleasant people. Not much was written about Moreta that I could find, but one of the true joys of writing historical fiction is the ability to discover that character who is only ever once mentioned in the historical record and make her into anything you choose.
So I did. I like Moreta. So does Johanna.
